The Girl with the Net
by TheGreenFire
Summary: Marissa Verri is a 14-year-old girl from District 4. She seems to be like every other person her age, but she's truly different. There are many things that separate her from the rest of the District, and the one big thing is her hate for the Hunger Games.
1. Prologue

_This is a Hunger Games fanfiction where I have created my own character and placed them somewhere in the middle of the whole Hunger Games series. _  
><em>This is my first published fanfiction so I'm not entirely sure if it's good or not.<em>  
><em>Please note that this fanfiction is based on the book NOT the movie and even though the movie has changed heaps of the actual storyline, rules etc. I will be following them as stated in the book.<em>  
><em>Hope you enjoy!<em>  
><em> -TheGreenFire<em>

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><p><strong>PROLOGUE<strong>

_I SIT WITH _my legs dangling an inch above the white wash of surging water, the rock beneath me damp with the salty sprays of the ocean waves. My feet are bare and cold, but I don't mind. I've swum in ice cold water before, so this is easy to bear. My hair is tangled and messy from the little sleep that I have had tonight. There is a good reason that I'm wide awake, and on the beach at this late hour. Most of the District is excited about the event that will take place in just ten hours; but I'm not. I think the Games are horrible, and a stupid way to punish the Districts for wanting a little freedom. I've never told anyone this. Not when everyone's too busy obsessing over the Games and training for hours every week.

I sigh and look up at the sky. I'm probably the only one who hates the Games in this District. And I'm Ok with it. One day, I'll fight for freedom just like the Districts did sixty-nine years ago. I don't care how, as long as I help.

The night sky looks like the dark, deep ocean, with little glittering shells here and there. The ocean is calm tonight; and because of its calmness, I too am calm. I close my eyes, head still tilted towards the starry sky, and listen to the rushing water, and breathe in the smell of sweet salt water. I belong here. My parents used to say it, and my cousins say it now, too. I belong in the water, swimming and splashing around. I belong out at sea, reeling in fish and diving for shellfish. I belong on the sand, catching crabs and collecting brightly colored shells to make into necklaces to wear out in the square. I belong here, and if I'm Reaped today and end up going to the Capitol somehow, I will be terribly disappointed.

I hear footsteps behind me, and don't have to turn to see who it is. I'd know the semi-silent footsteps of my cousin from a mile away.

"You know," I say, eyes still closed and head still tilted, "that I'm way old enough to be out here by myself."

"Yes, but perhaps I wanted to join you," says Ford. I turn and look at him. He has murky green eyes and a soft tan. His hair is light, the color of sand. He has a scar just below his lip, from when he fell and got a stray fish hook in his chin. We all have at least one fish-hook relating scar. I have three. "The bedroom gets awfully quiet without you snoring your guts out every night." I smack him on the leg and roll my eyes. We have a weird relationship. Mainly jokes and mucking around, but when it comes to fishing, boy, are we competitive. He sits next to me on the rock. His feet touch the water; he is taller than me even though we are the same age.

"Excited about Reaping?" he asks. This is where our relationship gets difficult; he loves the Games, I hate them.

"You bet," I say, grinning at him. "I can't wait to see if I'm the next murderer in this District." Ford looks at me, confused. He must've sensed the hint of sarcasm in my voice. I hope he hasn't. If he has, then I'm most likely going for a midnight swim.

"You hate the Games, don't you?" he asks after about ten minutes of silence. I nod.

"Took you a while to figure it out," I say, glaring at the churning water. "I always have." He looks out to the horizon, and leans back.

"I always thought you might," he finally says. "You never seem too enthusiastic during training."

"I just don't want to be trained to murder innocent people," I say, shaking my head. "I know I belong in District 4. I just don't belong in the violent side of it that is the Hunger Games."

"I know, Marissa," Ford says softly. "But you just have to live with it."


	2. Chapter I

**CHAPTER 1**

_FORD LEFT A _few hours ago, to go and sleep. That was his excuse, but I know he was thinking that I needed to be alone. I sit with my knees drawn up, and chin resting on them. I look out to sea and let the wind carry my hair wherever it pleases. I can see a few waves frolicking far out, but apart from that the water is still.

I've always loved the ocean. I grew up on its shores, learning to swim before I could walk. I could fish by the age of four, and could dive only a year later. My parents were skilled in the art of fishing, and took me out every Sunday to fish and to muck around in the deep water. Both my parents were like me; they despised the Hunger Games, and wished for them to have never been thought of. I agree with them one hundred percent, but back then I was confused by it, and was as absorbed in them as the rest of the District. I now know better. They always seemed to be obsessed with them. They hid their hatred for the Games for some strange, unknown reason. Perhaps everyone would no longer like them if it they told everyone about how much they hate the Games, that we would not be let into the square to get food. Not that they needed to go to the square for food- they could've easily gone fishing. But because of their secrecy I have not told anyone. I have tried to act as into them as the rest of the Districts population, and Fords reaction told me that I have done an OK job. I never was the best actor. Now I only wish they were still around to help bring an end to them. They died a brave death, they died to save a thing they loved; me. I think of them every night. And every night I have shed a silent tear for them. Once a year I go down to their graves on the beach just north of where I sit now, and place seaweed and coral around their bodies buried deep. It's not much, but they always told me how much they love the plants that fill the ocean floor.  
>I just hope they are grateful for it, wherever they are now.<p>

Training for me started a year before others. My uncle told me that it would help me take my mind off of the loss of my parents. He was wrong. It made me realize the cruelty of the Games more, and I finally understood why my parents resented them so much. I worked harder; only so I could make my body fit if the Districts decided it's time to fight for freedom again. If they don't start by themselves, then I will make them. That is what my training is about, and whenever my uncle or cousin told me to train for the Games, I would train less enthusiastically.

The water slowly begins to reflect the first rays of the sun peeking out from behind the horizon, and the sky turns from dark blue to a soft grey, and later to a pink streaked with orange. The sun rises until its body is seen in its full. I watch the sunrise, intrigued by the colors and warmth it brings. I don't hear Ford's footsteps this time, and jump when he speaks.

"Marissa, it's time for breakfast," he says, he voice sounds slow and sleepy; at least he got some sleep. I nod and get up slowly. I didn't realize that sitting on a hard rock for almost the whole night would make me ache so much, but I couldn't go to sleep even if my life depended on it.

I follow Ford towards our house and walk into the kitchen. My aunt, Maggs, is putting some freshly baked bread on the table.

"Marissa!" she shrieks, rushing over to hug me.

"Hello, Maggs," I say. My uncle and aunt make me call them by their names. I don't know why, they just do.

"Excited about today?" Maggs asks, smiling. "You must be. Marina can't stop talking about it!" I smile back. I have to look excited, or they'll know I hate the Games.

"Of course I am!" I say, trying hard to sound enthusiastic. "I can imagine Marina's excitement; the first year is always the best." Maggs smiles at me, and passes me a bread roll. I take it and eat it slowly, savoring the salty flavor of the seaweed in it. Marina is my little cousin. She's only twelve, but I still call her my little cousin.

Maggs has turned the television on, we have it in the kitchen because most of the mandatory things we must watch come on around meal times, and they are showing snippets from other Games.

"Where is Marina?" I ask Maggs. "And Naylor?" Naylor is my uncle.

"Marina is trying on her new Reaping dress," says Maggs, sitting opposite me. "Naylor is out in the square already. God knows what he is doing right now." About three minutes later, Marina comes into the kitchen. She looks beautiful. The dress matches her eyes, which are a deep shade of blue. Her eyes remind me of the ocean, especially when she smiles. Her hair is long and wavy. It's the same color as Ford's.

Maggs has tears in her eyes.

"Marina," I say. "You look stunning!" Marina smiles.

"Are you excited, Marina?" asks Ford.

"Yes!" Marina squeals. She joins us at the table, and we all finish breakfast together.

The snippets from previous Games aren't entertaining to me, but I act totally absorbed in it. I do it for Marina, because she keeps asking me questions about Games she hasn't seen, but I have.

"Um, Marissa?" asks Marina, her voice unusually quiet.

"Yes?" I say.

"Can you braid my hair?" she says, with a small smile. "Like how you used to."

"Of course, Marina," I say, smiling back. She sits on a chair in front of me, and I stand behind her, carefully turning her long, sandy hair into a fish tail. When she was younger I used to braid her hair a lot more often. But ever since I turned twelve training got so much harder and I practically spent most of my free time either down at the beach fishing, or down at the beach training.

I'm almost finished when I think of one last thing.

"Hold on, Marina," I say, quickly tying the end up with a blue ribbon. "I need to get something." I rush into my room, which I unfortunately share with Ford- since there are only five rooms in the whole house and there were none left for just me- and rummage around in a small wooden box under my bed. I keep most of my valuable things in here. My first fishing rod, a bunch of shells I collected with Marina and my mother when she was alive, a bright pink starfish, a note from my parents before they died, a silver locket, pictures of me and my family, a framed photo of me and Ford when we were younger, and many, many bracelets Marina made me from the shells on the beach. I finally find what I'm looking for and run back into the kitchen.

Marina looks at me curiously, probably wondering what on earth I'm holding. I smile at her, and quietly tie a string of shells around her head as a head band.

"There," I say. "Now you have a piece of the ocean with you." Marina gets up and looks in the mirror. A look of joy replaces the one of curiosity, and she simply hugs me in thanks.

We continue to watch the past Games, but as soon as the Reaping's start being shown, I get up, saying I need some fresh air before ours starts, and walk down to the beach. I stand a few meters back from the edge of the water, allowing it to wash my feet with the small waves that drift onto the beach whenever they please. I want to savor this moment; of the water tickling my feet, the cool ocean breeze carrying my hair around, the sun reflecting on the blue water. It could be my last moment here, after all.

I don't know how long I stand there, a few hours' maybe, but Ford creeps up on me and almost pushes me into the water. I squeal, and grab his arm to keep me from falling forwards. He tries to push me in again, but I grab his other shoulder and try to push him forwards. Ford tries to resist falling into the water and tries to push me in at the same time. It doesn't work well, and he has a few seconds where he is confused, and I use those few seconds to quickly shove him into the water. As though he expected this, he pulls me in with him. We end up having a massive water-fight, and we are drenched by the time we finally go up to the house. When Maggs sees us she looks shocked.

"What were you doing?" she shrieks. "Having a water-fight?" Me and Ford look at each other and burst into laughter.

"Yes," I finall say.

"Well go and get dry," says Maggs, slightly annoyed. "Both of your Reaping outfits are on the kitchen table." We both quickly dry ourselves and go into the kitchen to retrieve out Reaping outfits. Mine is a knee-length deep green dress. It has a silver sash around the middle, and silver ballet flats with little bows on them. The dress is really pretty, and I only hope it looks good on me. If I somehow go to the Capitol wearing this, it might make the whole trip seem a bit more bearable.

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><p><em>AN: I know I used the name 'Maggs'. And, no, Mags from Catching fire is not Marissa's aunt in this story. I just couldn't think of any more names and I stole it (Sorry! Don't hurt me!), plus the Maggs in this story has two 'g's not one (silly me for thinking Mags was spelt with two.). And even if Mags from CF was Marissa's aunt, I would've stated so when I introduced the character._  
><em>Also, I'd just like to say thanks to <em>KidTantei_, who reviewed and said they had spotted an error in my writing. I fixed it! I tend to overlook little bit's that I know what they mean but no one else does. Sorry if I do that later on in my story, I will re-read my story three times (maybe four for good luck :P) before publishing the chapter._  
><em>The next chapter will be up in five days.<em>  
><em>-TheGreenFire<em>


	3. Chapter II

**CHAPTER TWO**

_THE SQUARE'S PACKED _as usual. Everyone tries to come, as the Reaping ceremony is considered a huge honor to be part of, especially if you're Reaped. Maggs is rushing us like always, and she shoves us off towards the roped areas and says she'll sign us in. Marina is smiling; a happy expression on her face, but there is a look in her eyes that hints that she is nervous; or scared.

"Are you OK, Marina?" I ask.

"Yes," she says. "Just a bit nervous."

"Don't be." I stop and kneel next to her. "You know Ursula Fanggs? She's been going around to every girl she meets, telling them that this is her year to go in the Games, and if they take her place she will punish them. If you're name gets Reaped, she'll volunteer way before Vinea asks for any volunteers to step forwards. You have nothing to worry about." Marina smiles, gives me a quick and final hug, and walks off towards the 12-year-old girls section at the front. Ford and I walk together until we reach the part where we must go into our separate areas. Ford smiles at me and turns to go. I grab his arm.

"You aren't thinking of volunteering this year, right?" I ask, unsure.

"No way," Ford replies, grinning. "I don't feel like this is my year. What about you?" I shake my head.

"Good luck, Ford," I say.

"Good luck, Marissa," he says. We both turn and go into our areas; me, the 14-year-old girls section, and Ford the 14-year-old boys section. I stand near the aisle, waiting patiently for the clock to strike twelve, noon. I stand as still as possible, smiling at everyone who passes, waving at some people I know. I be myself, the ocean-loving girl, but must hide my hate of the Games.

I stare at the temporary stage set up before the Justice Building. There are four chairs sitting upon it. Two hold the tributes' mentors. I only know the name of one, Finnick Odair, who was the victor four years ago. The other victor must have won the year my parents died; I didn't watch the Games that year. The other two chairs are occupied by the Mayor and Vinea; the Capitol representative and escort for the new tributes. She also chooses the names out of two big glass bowls, one for the boys and the other for the girls.

Twelve comes around sooner than I would like, and the Mayor steps up to say the compulsory speech about how the Hunger Games were formed and, most importantly, why. I doubt everyone listens to this speech, I know I don't. I hear it once a year and it isn't exactly entertaining. I guess it isn't supposed to be. I know the others will want it to hurry up so the Reaping can take place. I zone out like I do every year, and watch as seagulls fly lazily overhead. They annoy pretty much everyone, including me, but I always watch them fly. Flight is something everyone would like to experience, but only birds get to soar above our heads.

The speech _finally_ finishes, and our Mayor calls up Vinea. She walks up to the podium, beaming at everyone. She has curly, electric blue hair, and stunning silver lipstick that shines too brightly. She is wearing electric blue clothing, and silver shoes. I think she's overdoing the whole 'blue and silver' look, but it's her choice, not mine.

"Welcome, welcome," Vinea shrieks, over dramatically. "Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" Like always, she rambles on about how much of an honor it is to be in this wonderful District. I agree with the wonderful part, but everything else is probably just lies to make us like her more. I bet everyone does like her, because she's the one who Reaps the tributes' names, and later chooses one of the many volunteers. I hate her.

"Well, let's get on with the Reaping now, shall we?" she says. "Ladies first!" Vinea walks over to the glass bowl on the left that contains all the names of the girls who are eligible to compete in the Hunger Games. She puts her hand in and digs around before grabbing a slip and walking back over to the podium to announce the name.

"The female Tribute for District 4 is. . ." she begins, carefully unfolding the piece of paper. Everyone holds their breath, eagerly awaiting the name of the new tribute. "Ursula Fanggs!" The look on Ursula's face as she walks down the center aisle towards the stage looks utterly happy. She has a smile that literally takes up her whole face, and she's standing taller than she was before. She walks up onto the stage, still beaming, and takes her place.

"Any volunteers?" asks Vinea. No one moves and Ursula looks ecstatic. The look on her face, the look of greed and overwhelming happiness, is the only thing that drives me forwards and into aisle.

"I would like to volunteer," I say loudly. The new look that replaces the one before is a look of shock- and pure hatred. I smile up at her, in a friendly way, and she looks as though she could strangle me.

"Oh, how delightful!" says Vinea, clasping her hands together in front of her. "Why don't you come up to the stage so we can have your name?" I walk up, passing Ursula on the way. I can see her hands twitching and I smile at her again. I don't know why the look of anger on her face pleases me. I guess it's because she thinks she's better than everyone else just because both her parents were victors. She thinks she scared everyone into not volunteering to take her place, but she was wrong. She doesn't control me; I control myself.

I step onto the stage, and take Ursula's place as she sulks off towards the 18-year-old section. Too bad, she's never going to be in the Games now. She missed her chance.

"What's your name?" asks Vinea.

"Marissa Verri," I say.

"Our new tribute is Marissa Verri!" says Vinea. "How about a round of applause for our courageous new tribute?" Everyone claps and cheers and whistles like always. But perhaps a bit more because I stood up to Ursula. I can see her fuming face from here, and she stares at me with an expression of absolute hatred. I scan the crowd for Ford as the cheering dies down, and see him staring back at me with a look of utter bewilderment and shock on his face. Ford is my best friend, and I can understand that after finding out that I am one hundred percent against the Games and am now standing on the stage after volunteering would surprise him. It surprised me too, but I have a plan forming in my head. A plan to show everyone in the entire country of Panem that I don't play by the rules set by my District.

Vinea beams at me, I smile back, then she announces she will now reap the boys name and walks over to the bowl on the right to Reap the male tribute. She does the same thing, puts her hand amongst all the slips, and digs around until she finds one that she wants. She walks back to the podium, unfolds the piece of paper, and reads out the name.

"The male tribute for District 4 is. . . Ford Kaves!" I suppress a laugh. I know it shouldn't seem funny that the one year Ford says he would not like to be in the Games, he is. But that doesn't matter. There will be heaps of volunteers and Ford will most likely not even step foot into the Justice Building as a tribute. At least, I hope he doesn't. I would not like to fight to the death against my cousin and best friend.

Ford walks casually onto the stage, trying to act normal. He avoids my eyes as he climbs onto the stage. Once he takes his place, Vinea asks for volunteers, and I was right. About ten or so boys lunge forwards into the aisle to volunteer. Vinea chooses one, a tall boy who came from the 16-year-old area, and he takes Fords place on stage. Vinea asks for his name, and he replies, "Rip East."

Another round of applause, then the Mayor comes out and reads out the Treaty of Treason. Afterwards, everyone stands still as the anthem of Panem plays, then Rip and I get taken into the Justice Building. I've never been in it before, but I've heard that it's the fanciest place in the whole of District 4. And it is. Even though it's a bit run-down, it's probably the nicest building I've ever been in. It must seem so ugly to the Capitol people who come here, but to me it's wonderful. Rip and I get put into separate rooms, and are allocated an hour for good byes.

I sit on the couch on the back wall, stroking its soft fabric while I wait for visitors. I don't have to wait long. Marina, Ford, Maggs and Naylor come in. Maggs has tears in her eyes and she rushes up and hugs me.

"Oh, Marissa," she sighs. "I can't believe you are a tribute!" She hugs me for a long time, sniffing occasionally. I can't think of anything to say, I just smile at her as she pulls out of the hug.

"I can't believe you stood up to Ursula," says Naylor. "She was telling everyone that it was her turn to be in the Games this year."

"Too bad," I say. "Now she'll never know what it feels like." Naylor laughs, and hugs me. Afterwards, Marina hugs me, too.

"Why did you volunteer, Marissa?" she asks.

"To show her that she doesn't own me," I say. "That I can do whatever I want to." She's still hugging me, maybe because I feel like her sister or something. I look over her shoulder at Ford. He's still looking at me with a strange expression on his face. I try to ignore it. This is a time to say goodbye to my little cousin, not to wonder why he's looking at me in that strange way. Marina pulls away and hands me something. I look at it and get tears in my eyes. It's the shell headband that I placed in her hair before the Reaping.

"Now you have a piece of the ocean with you," she says.

"Thank you, Marina," I whisper, and hug her one last time.

"You'll wear it in the arena, right?" she whispers in my ear.

"Of course I will," I say. "I will." I try not to cry, but it's becoming difficult for me not to. We break away and she sits on the couch next to Maggs, whose still crying.

That leaves Ford. He doesn't hug me; he just continues staring at me with the same expression.

"What?" I ask.

"You volunteered," he says.

"And?" I ask, confused.

"You hate the Games," Ford says. "You hate the Games, and now you've volunteered to go in them. What happened to murdering innocent people?"

"I will only kill people if I know or have witnessed them murdering another," I say. "Then they will no longer be."

"But then you will no longer be innocent either," he says. "And why are you doing this, anyway?"

"I'm doing this to stand up for myself!" I say, slightly annoyed and ignoring the looks of shock on the others' faces. "And all of the other District 1, 2 and 4 people who are forced to train even if though they despise the Games. Just because I come from District 4, doesn't mean I have to love the Games! It doesn't mean I have to train and follow the other careers around. I want to be myself! And I am certainly not a girl who has trained all her life to kill people. I'm not a girl who wants to go in the Games and run around killing people for my enjoyment. I volunteered to show everyone who I am."

"So if you're not a career, then who are you?" he asks, quietly.

"I'm me," I say. This is when he hugs me. It's a long hug, and I close my eyes to keep from crying. It's the first hug we've had in years, and it could be the last. I bite my lip as a tear escapes my eye.

"Try and win, OK?" he asks.

"I won't go down without a fight," I say. We all have one last hug.

"Please don't tell anyone, though," I say.

"Don't tell who what?" asks Naylor.

"Don't tell anyone that I hate the Games," I say, looking out the window. "I want everyone to think I love them just as much as anyone else. Help me convince Panem." The door opens and a Peacekeeper comes in, ordering everyone out. They don't have any more time to say anything, and follow the Peacekeeper out.

I hold the headband tightly in my hands, afraid of losing it. The truth of my actions truly sinks in. Because of what I have done, I may die trying to fight for my life. I will kill people. Kill. The word sends a shiver of terror through my body. I hate to admit it, but I don't want to someone.

I don't have any more friends, or family, so I guess I have to wait for the hour to pass. I sit with my knees drawn up in the corner. I play around with the shell headband for a while, before putting it in my hair. I close my eyes and try to forget about what will be happening in just a few weeks. I just hope I'll be able to come out in one peice.


End file.
